Lord Kilgobbin Part 69

Lord Danesbury had never been a fluent speaker in public, while in private life a natural indolence of disposition, improved, so to say, by an Eastern life, had made him so sparing of his words, that at times when he was ill or indisposed he could never be said to converse at all, and his talk consisted of very short sentences strung loosely together, and not unfrequently so ill-connected as to show that an unexpressed thought very often intervened between the uttered fragments. Except to men who, like Walpole, knew him intimately, he was all but unintelligible. The private secretary, however, understood how to fill up the blanks in any discourse, and so follow out indications which, to less practised eyes, left no footmarks behind them.

His Excellency, slowly recovering from a sharp attack of gout, was propped by pillows, and smoking a long Turkish pipe, as Cecil entered the room and saluted him. 'Come at last,' was his lordship's greeting. 'Ought to have been here weeks ago. Read that.' And he pushed towards him a _Times_, with a mark on the margin: 'To ask the Secretary for Ireland whether the statement made by certain newspapers in the North of a correspondence between the Castle authorities and the Fenian leader was true, and whether such correspondence could be laid on the table of the House?'

'Read it out,' cried the Viceroy, as Walpole conned over the paragraph somewhat slowly to himself.

'I think, my lord, when you have heard a few words of explanation from me, you will see that this charge has not the gravity these newspaper-people would like to attach to it.'

'Can't be explained--nothing could justify--infernal blunder--and must go.'

'Pray, my lord, vouchsafe me even five minutes.'

'See it all--balderdash--explain nothing--Cardinal more offended than the rest--and here, read.' And he pushed a letter towards him, dated Downing Street, and marked private. 'The idiot you left behind you has been betrayed into writing to the rebels and making conditions with them. To disown him now is not enough.'

'Really, my lord, I don't see why I should submit to the indignity of reading more of this.'

His Excellency crushed the letter in his hand, and puffed very vigorously at his pipe, which was nearly extinguished. 'Must go,' said he at last, as a fresh volume of smoke rolled forth.

'That I can believe--that I can understand, my lord. When you tell me you cease to endorse my pledges, I feel I am a bankrupt in your esteem.'

'Others smashed in the same insolvency--inconceivable blunder--where was Cartwright?--what was Holmes about? No one in Dublin to keep you out of this cursed folly?'

'Until your lordship's patience will permit me to say a few words, I cannot hope to justify my conduct.'

'No justifying--no explaining--no! regular smash and complete disgrace.

Must go.'

'I am quite ready to go. Your Excellency has no need to recall me to the necessity.'

'Knew it all--and against my will, too--said so from the first--thing I never liked--nor see my way in. Must go--must go.'

'I presume, my lord, I may leave you now. I want a bath and a cup of coffee.'

'Answer that!' was the gruff reply, as he tossed across the table a few lines signed, 'Bertie Spencer, Private Secretary.'

'"I am directed to request that Mr. Walpole will enable the Right Honourable Mr. Annihough to give the flattest denial to the inclosed."'

'That must be done at once,' said the Viceroy, as the other ceased to read the note.

'It is impossible, my lord; I cannot deny my own handwriting.'

'Annihough will find some road out of it,' muttered the other. '_You_ were a fool, and mistook your instructions, or the _constable_ was a fool and required a misdirection, or the _Fenian_ was a fool, which he would have been if he gave the pledge you asked for. Must go, all the same.'

'But I am quite ready to go, my lord,' rejoined Walpole angrily. 'There is no need to insist so often on that point.'

'Who talks--who thinks of _you_, sir?' cried the other, with an irritated manner. 'I speak of myself. It is _I_ must resign--no great sacrifice, perhaps, after all; stupid office, false position, impracticable people.

Make them all Papists to-morrow, and ask to be Hindus. They've got the land, and not content if they can't shoot the landlords!'

'If you think, my lord, that by any personal explanation of mine, I could enable the Minister to make his answer in the House more plausible--'

'Leave the plausibility to himself, sir,' and then he added, half aloud, 'he'll be unintelligible enough without _you_. There, go, and get some breakfast--come back afterwards, and I'll dictate my letter of resignation.

Maude has had a letter from Atlee. Shrewd fellow, Atlee--done the thing well.'

As Walpole was near the door, his Excellency said, 'You can have Guatemala, if they have not given it away. It will get you out of Europe, which is the first thing, and with the yellow fever it may do more.'

'I am profoundly grateful, my lord,' said he, bowing low.

'Maude, of course, would not go, so it ends _that_.'

'I am deeply touched by the interest your lordship vouchsafes to my concerns.'

'Try and live five years, and you'll have a retiring allowance. The last fellow did, but was eaten by a crocodile out bathing.' And with this he resumed his _Times_, and turned away, while Walpole hastened off to his room, in a frame of mind very far from comfortable or rea.s.suring.

CHAPTER LII

A CHANCE AGREEMENT

As d.i.c.k Kearney and young O'Shea had never attained any close intimacy--a strange sort of half-jealousy, inexplicable as to its cause, served to keep them apart--it was by mere accident that the two young men met one morning after breakfast in the garden, and on Kearney's offer of a cigar, the few words that followed led to a conversation.

'I cannot pretend to give you a choice Havana, like one of Walpole's,' said d.i.c.k, 'but you'll perhaps find it smokeable.'

'I'm not difficult,' said the other; 'and as to Mr. Walpole's tobacco, I don't think I ever tasted it.'

'And I,' rejoined the other, 'as seldom as I could; I mean, only when politeness obliged me.'

'I thought you liked him?' said Gorman shortly.

'I? Far from it. I thought him a consummate puppy, and I saw that he looked down on us as inveterate savages.'

'He was a favourite with your ladies, I think?'

'Certainly not with my sister, and I doubt very much with my cousin. Do _you_ like him?'

'No, not at all; but then he belongs to a cla.s.s of men I neither understand nor sympathise with. Whatever _I_ know of life is a.s.sociated with downright hard work. As a soldier I had my five hours' daily drill and the care of my equipments, as a lieutenant I had to see that my men kept to their duty, and whenever I chanced to have a little leisure, I could not give it up to ennui or consent to feel bored and wearied.'

'And do you mean to say you had to groom your horse and clean your arms when you served in the ranks?'

'Not always. As a cadet I had a soldier-servant, what we call a "Bursche"; but there were periods when I was out of funds, and barely able to grope my way to the next quarter-day, and at these times I had but one meal a day, and obliged to draw my waist-belt pretty tight to make me feel I had eaten enough. A Bursche costs very little, but I could not spare even that little.'

'Confoundedly hard that.'

'All my own fault. By a little care and foresight, even without thrift, I had enough to live as well as I ought; but a reckless dash of the old spendthrift blood I came of would master me now and then, and I'd launch out into some extravagance that would leave me penniless for months after.'

'I believe I can understand that. One does get horribly bored by the monotony of a well-to-do existence: just as I feel my life here--almost insupportable.'

'But you are going into Parliament; you are going to be a great public man.'